Betty the Beach Tree

This poem is by my 13-year-old cousin Amelia Terry.

Betty stands in the park, a sentinel of green,
Her roots deep in the earth, where secrets are seen.
Her branches reach wide, with leaves soft and bright,
Dancing with the wind, catching the light.
Through every season, she changes her dress—
In spring, she's a promise; in fall, she’s a guess.
Her bark tells a story of years gone by,
Of quiet moments beneath an open sky.
When I visit, she whispers without a sound,
Her presence a comfort, where peace can be found.
Betty is more than a tree to my heart,
She's a friend, a symbol, a place to restart.
Through summer's heat or winter's cold bite,
She's always there, in the soft morning light.
In her shade, I find solace and care,
A steadfast companion, always aware.
Betty, my Betty, your comfort will stay,
A part of my soul, each and every day.